“On a small leather love seat wedged into one corner was propped a list of marijuana offerings printed on a piece of cardboard with colorful markers. There were usually eight selections, with jocular names like Jingle Bells, Piney, Whopper, and White Wolf, priced in columns representing one-quarter and one-half ounce. These topped out at $160 or even $180 per quarter, making this some of the most expensive pot in the city. But oh, the pot! Looking like it had been ripped from the pages of High Times, the pristine buds were often two inches in length, completely seedless, and heavy with coagulated resin. The odor was enough to knock you out, and Piney really did smell like you’d tumbled into a north-woods forest. The smell was so strong that, after measuring out your quantity on a pharmacist’s scale, Jen would double-bag it. You could still smell it as you tripped down the stairs, eager for a chance to sample your purchase.”